


Cause If My Heart Can't Stop It, I'll Find A Way To Block It

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Grantaire, Abusive Relationships, Alcoholism, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, sorry - Freeform, verbal/emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 18:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14219412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Grantaire is not a nice drunk. Enjolras doesn't know how to respond- or if he can stay with him like this.





	Cause If My Heart Can't Stop It, I'll Find A Way To Block It

**Author's Note:**

> If this looks familiar- I initially posted this a few days ago, but I got nervous and deleted it. But yeah, this fic is not for you if you want a nice Grantaire or a portrayal of healthy relationships. The title is from the song "La la la"

Grantaire had had a few too many drinks that evening.

“Look it’s not as though any of this is ever going to work. You know this. I don’t understand why you keep prattling on about something so utterly inane. There’s no point to any of this.”

Enjolras tried not to move too much from where he was sitting on the couch. He knew Grantaire would stop soon, he had to. He always did. He had always known Grantaire got argumentative when drunk, but the anger in his voice and how loud he could get was always surprising. He knew he should try to make his case, try to explain- again- why this meant so much to him. But it had been such a long day, and the thought of riling up Grantaire even further scared him. He would fight for the causes he cared about as fiercely as he was able, but how could he fight someone who was supposed to be on his side, who had already heard all his arguments and speeches and was now dismissing them all as worthless? 

“I mean look at these pamphlets. No one will ever read these, Enjolras, and you know it! You might as well just burn them, for all the good they’ll do.”

And as he said that, Grantaire stared picking up the pamphlets Enjolras had spent hours writing and threw them on the floor. He was standing so close to Enjolras that the abrupt movement of his arm made him flinch before scrambling to pick them up- Feuilly had let them use his employee’s discount at the copy shop to make those, and he would be so annoyed if it had all been for nothing. 

“They’re no use! Why are you trying to pick them up! This is pointless. Stop being so useless!”

As if to illustrate his point, he brought his foot- still wearing the heavy motorcycle boots- and ground the pamphlets Enjolras had been gathering together beneath the heel. 

Enjolras couldn’t move. He should be shouting back at Grantaire, fighting for the thing he believed in- but he was stuck watching the product of so many hours of work being dirtied as if they were nothing. There was a strange ringing in his ears and his breath came in short bursts as Grantaire’s shouted words seemed to paralyse him. Why couldn’t he just speak up? Why couldn’t he say anything? 

“I knew you’d see the truth- this is nothing Enj. You’re not changing anything, and you never will,” as he spoke those words, Grantaire’s voice seemed to grow gentle, and Enjolras tried to tell himself this would all be over soon- Grantaire had drunk too much and would apologise in the morning. He always did.

So he nodded, still crouched on the floor at Grantaire’s feet. What else could he do? 

Grantaire walked up to where Enjolras was kneeling, reaching down to tilt his face up, but Enjolras keep his eyes glued to the boots that had been crushing the words he had been spending so long on writing as tears welled up in them. He tried to flinch away, but the fingers on his chin tightened and he tensed up, not moving any further away lest Grantaire start shouting again. 

“Enjolras. Look at me.” When Enjolras failed to look up, Grantaire bent down to look into his face, his breath hot and stinking of beer. “I love you. I just don’t want you to get hurt for these pointless things.”

At that, Enjolras could no longer stop the tears from spilling over, and Grantaire made a distressed noise and reached out to embrace Enjolras, making soothing noises as he held him close. 

 

They were lying in bed the next morning when Grantaire rolled over, looking uncharacteristically sombre. “I’m sorry about last night. I got carried away, I shouldn’t have said the things I did.” 

“You’re different when you’re drunk,” Enjolras murmured, hiding his face in Grantaire’s neck as he spoke. “You scare me sometimes.”

“Shit I- I never mean to scare you. I just get so angry at the world.” 

Enjolras could understand that. Sometimes he lay awake at night, wishing for nothing more than to burn down everything that caused injustice and suffering, to rip the weapons from every last soldier and police officer who would harm innocents, to keep smashing his fists into anyone who oppressed people for their own gain until the would never be able to do that again. It scared him sometimes, made him seek out people like Combeferre and Feuilly, people who saw the necessity for violence but who he trusted to never long for it the same way he did. People who could tell him if he went too far. But Grantaire- he could never understand how Grantaire seemed to level his anger at people trying to change things- at people he cared about. 

“Look if you really don’t want me to keep drinking I can stop- for a bit, to see how that goes?”

Enjolras felt the relief down in his bones. Maybe this would be alright. Maybe Grantaire would change and he could stop trying to figure out how he might stop Grantaire’s rants and yelling by trying not to bring up anything that might set him off. This would be alright. 

“Please,” was all he ended up whispering.

 

Enjolras stood in the kitchen with the half-full bottle of wine in his hand, trying to come up for an explanation for why it was here. Maybe Eponine had been over a few days ago and forgotten it here? But why would she leave it in the cabinet under the sink- and why would she even bring it over, knowing that Grantaire was trying to be sober? The more he thought it over, the more he came to the one conclusion he had been avoiding- Grantaire had put this bottle here, Grantaire had been drinking from it- Grantaire had been lying to him. Grantaire might start acting the way he used to any day. 

He couldn’t do this anymore. The thought hit him, and he stood up, shoving the bottle back into the cabinet where he found it before changing his mind, putting the bottle on the table- where he knew Grantaire couldn’t miss it. 

 

Enjolras ended up going to Courfeyrac. Marius had just moved out to go live with Cosette, so he knew there was a mattress free. He stood in front of the door, trying to convince himself to ring the doorbell. Courfeyrac could help him. Courfeyrac loved him. He took a deep breath, and finally brought himself to press the button, his heart hammering loudly in his chest as he waited for Courfeyrac to emerge. 

The door was thrown open and he couldn’t help a flinch. “Enjolras! What brings you here, my dearest friend?”

“I think need help. Grantaire- he hasn’t been treating me right, and I don’t think he’s going to change like he promised.” 

Courfeyrac’s smile slid off his face and he held open the door for Enjolras to come inside. 

“Do you want to stay here for a bit?”

“If I could?”

“Of course! And- you don’t have to tell me any specifics, but I’m here if you want to talk.”

Enjolras smiled. Things would get better for him, he knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are deeply appriciated, I'd really love to hear what people think of this.


End file.
